“Can I tell you something?” she finally says.
I look up at her. “What?”
She takes a deep breath, like she’s weighing whether to say it out loud. “You know, you weren’t my first pregnancy.”
I blink. “What?”
“I had three miscarriages before I had you.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
“What? I didn’t know that.” Tears burn in my eyes.
“I know.” She looks down at our hands. “I never talked about it. Your dad and I…we just kept it private. It was too painful to share.”
“When?” I ask, my voice barely there.
“The first one was pretty soon after we got married. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until I wasn’t anymore.” Her voice is steady, but there’s a tremor underneath. “The second one was a few months later. That one I knew about. I was twelve weeks. We had just told people. And then…” She trails off, shaking her head.
My chest aches. “Mom.”
“The third one was the hardest,” she continues quietly. “Because, by then, I’d started to believe it was never going to happen. That maybe I just wasn’t meant to be a mother.”
Tears burn in my eyes. “And then how long until you had me?”
“About one and a half years later.” She smiles, but it’s sad. “And you were worth every second of the wait.”
I swipe at my cheeks, trying to hold it together. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “It’s not exactly something you bring up over dinner. And by the time you were old enough tounderstand, it felt…behind me. Like something that happened to someone else.”
We sit in silence for a moment, and I try to process.
“Is that why I’m an only child?” I ask quietly.
She nods. “We tried for a few more years after you were born. But it never happened again. And eventually, we just…accepted it. Decided you were enough.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Don’t be.” She squeezes my hand. “You were more than enough, Megan. You always have been.”
I lean my head against her shoulder, and she wraps her arm around me, holding me close like I’m a little kid again.
“It’s going to happen for you,” she says softly. “I don’t know when. And I don’t know how. But I truly think it will.”
“What if it doesn’t?” I whisper.
She pulls back just enough to look at me. “There are options. IVF, things like that.”
I nod slowly, letting her words sink in.
“I know it’s overwhelming to think about,” she continues.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know.”
She brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Have you and Mason talked about any of that?”
“Not really.” I shake my head. “We’ve just been…trying. And hoping. And praying.”
